


guiltyborne

by Judithan



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Guilty Gear
Genre: Crossover, Drabble Collection, M/M, Timeline Out Of Order, bloodborne au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judithan/pseuds/Judithan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sol just wants to defeat the monsters of the land, release the curse of night, and go back to what Yharnam was before the curse. Sin just hopes to make it through the next few hours alive. Teaming up isn't exactly the best solution, but everyone knows the good Hunter can't say no to a kind human in need.</p><p>That is, as long as they stay human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Terrible Night for a Curse

**Author's Note:**

> this is so shameless and self indulgent, but thanks for reading it anyway.

The Hunter is quiet, the only sound he makes is his boots hitting wet stone. He walks at a brisk pace, checking behind him every few paces so as to avoid an attack from the rear. Every step forward is one more step into uncertainty, into possible death. It doesn’t bother him as much anymore, at least. Death has only become more of an annoyance to him, rather than a real fear, or even a permanence. A Hunter cannot die until the night is over, it would seem.

This curse is the only thing keeping his body alive, it would seem. He lights a cigarette, almost as a form of protest. A pack a day would have surely killed him by this point, but this night doesn’t fucking end, so who knows how long it’s been.

He doesn’t know what time it is anymore. It’s just dusk, forever and ever. It’s annoying.

Yharnam has turned into something of a hellscape since the Hunter’s night began. What once was a beautiful Victorian who’s-who of society has recently spiraled into a barricaded nightmare land littered with angry mobs and disgusting monsters. Not that the Hunter can really complain, though. He lives for the fight and wouldn’t have it any other way, after all, what better way to spend an eternal hell than doing battle with horrifying creatures? At least, that’s what he thought before going against the Cleric Beast, only to be pillaged with night terrors any time he closed his eyes.

Since then, he had developed heavy bags under his eyes, as well as a heavy smoking habit. The Hunter was lucky enough that the merchants he frequented for equipment were able to procure him some cheap relief. Well, cheap on the coin, not on his lungs.

Coming out to a nice clearing he hears some chatting from the local locked-up residences but doesn’t pay them much mind. They’re catty and hardly worth the Hunter’s breath. If anything, he’s more interested in his surroundings, the opening he came out to being something more pleasant on the eyes - though the decaying trees and littered leafs all over the fountain weren’t always his sense of ‘beauty’ he would take it any day over the rest of this nightmare land. 

A noise to the right draws the Hunter’s attention from his thoughts, and he draws his weapon out faster than he himself can even process -it’s not even instinct at this point, it’s compulsory. The noise came from a dark corner, void of any real lighting, and with another step forward he can see the outline of a cowering figure.

An enemy? There’s no way to really know until he strikes.

“Wh-who’s there?!” A human, it would seem, and a gentle one at that. They don’t have a weapon on them from what the Hunter can tell, but he doesn’t take the chance and continues his battle stance. “Are you… a Hunter?”

The Hunter doesn’t answer verbally, just nods slowly. A sigh is heard from the shadowed figure, who then emerges into the light of dusk. They’re no more than a boy, covered in blood and bandages. Their right eye is covered in bandages, as though it’s nonexistent. The Hunter doesn’t dismiss the notion but loosens his battle stance nonetheless. A one-eye’d human wouldn’t put up too much of a fight, unless they were to transform, but that takes time and would have been much more advantageous of them to have just done so beforehand rather than risk death. He figures it safe enough to let his guard up - at least for this person.

“Oh thank God, I was worried that you may have been part of the mob. I’ve been in hiding from them-” The boy is rambling, going on about something or other that the Hunter doesn’t care much about. Something about this glimmer of innocence is nice at the very least. “How rude of me I haven’t even introduced myself,” The Hunter tries to stop them, but it’s out before he can make a sound. “My name is Sin, it’s a pleasure to meet-”

“Don’t get comfortable, kid. I don’t know who you are and I’m not interested.” The Hunter finally remarks, gruff voice coming out almost like a thick cough. Those cigarettes were really going to do a number on his lungs by this point. He tries to leave but it stopped by a tug on his cape, and blue eyes staring back at him as though there was still some form of innocence left in the world.

“You… you’re new, aren’t you?” Sin states, voice somewhere between questioning and amused. Like some kind of stupid rhetorical bullshit. “On a night like this you need all the help you can get.” He stretches a hand out, inviting the Hunter to shake it. Of course, he ignores the action and makes his way to leave.

“Not interested. I’m only in this for the pay off.” Again, stopped by a little-bit-less-gentle tug on his cape, and more silent pleading by innocent eyes.

The Hunter can’t stand being stuck in one place for too long, feels wrong… feels vulnerable.

“Hunter, please… let me assist you in some way…” It’s at this point he realizes what Sin is really saying: please help me. There’s no way he would survive without the Hunter.

How annoying.

The Hunter scratches his head, irritation levels rising quickly but he already knew the kind of bullshit he would be encountering in this kind of journey. He didn’t sign that contract so he could leisurely stroll the nightmare night - he signed it to stay alive, to right the wrong of this land with the blood of it’s monstrosities.

And apparently helping lost lambs was a part of this binding oath of a Hunter.

“Fine. Just stay close and follow my exact order the second I say it.” Sin nods, excited yet clearly terrified. They begin to set off once more, continuing in the direction the Hunter had originally been going before getting distracted by this sudden pick-up.

“Hunter, is there a name I can call you? I’m sure there must be?” He’s so very curious, so very innocent, but the bloody bandages on his left wrist and his right eye mean nothing but trouble. There’s something going on with this boy, but it’s not the Hunter’s place to meddle. He already had enough meddling to do with destroying the monsters of the land.

“My name is Sol Badguy. No more questions. Let’s go.”

Another cigarette in his mouth, a quick light from the torch, and they’re good to go. They walk into the crimson night in silence, the boy following a few steps behind the Hunter. If all goes well, they’ll get through this night with Sin only losing a limb. After all, only the Hunters come back from peril unscathed.


	2. Joining the Hunt

When he notices Sin missing, Sol’s first instinct is panic. There's no way he can survive the night by himself, at least not outdoors. He told him to specifically sit his ass down and stay put til he came back from the Hunter’s dream, and usually he followed directions like a loyal hound, but why, why now?

He needed to find him, and quick. Of course, the more ground he could cover the faster, so he chose to simply travel back and forth between different lanterns, finding no sign of his charge.

That is, until he went all the way back to the sick room he woke up in.

There he was, pale, lifeless, laying peacefully on the medical bed as if he was supposed to be there. A feeling of dread sank into Sol’s stomach. Of course he wasn't supposed to have gone off on his own, but why did he come all the way out here? Was he kidnapped? Why won't he wake up?

“Why did you go off on your own Sin? Why did you come here, of all places?” He shakes Sin’s unconscious body but he doesn’t come to for a few minutes. Slowly, the boy opens his hazed, almost lifeless eyes. Something isn’t right. “No, no, noooo… No! Why did you do this? Sin? Sin?!” The rusty hospital bed he’s on shakes and moves under him with Sol’s hasty movements. Nothing about his treatment is gentle, he’s afraid, for once in his goddamn life.

Why did he do this?!

It takes a few moments but Sin does finally acknowledge the Hunter’s questions.

“I wanted…t-to help you, Sol…” His voice is drained, sad even. This isn’t right, why is he here, why did he come to this place of all-

And that’s when Sol notices it. The needle marks on his arm, which had previously been covered by the bandages.

“What... are those?”

“I tried to make myself a Hunter before an’ it didn’ work, didn't have the right blood. But I asked That Man an' gave me the quicksilver blood an’ contract. He made me a Hunter. Now I can help you, Sol…!” He’s so happy, his eyes are so bright, but there isn’t a hint of life in them. Sin wasn’t made to be a Hunter. He’s nothing more than a sitting duck, just like he was before, but now he has the idea of immortality in his mind. Everything about this is so very wrong, yet Sol can’t do anything to stop it. It’s too late. He’s too late.

“Why would you do this, Sin? Why?” Sol is practically begging for this to be some elaborate joke at this point, but he knows the boy can’t lie. It’s no use pretending that he can.

“I don’t want you to be afraid for me.” He says, a sad smile on his lips, tired eyes welling with tears. Even if he were to trek through hell and back, there still wouldn’t be an ounce of evil in this boy, and Sol can’t help but hate it. He’s so clean, so pure, he doesn’t deserve the fate of a Hunter. He doesn’t deserve the nightmares and sleepless eternity.

“You didn’t need to become a Hunter for me to want to stay with you.” Sol pulls him into a tight hug, nearly crushing the frail boy. He can feel the tears rolling down his face, and doesn’t want Sin to have to see it.

He wouldn’t wish the fate of a Hunter on anybody.


	3. Scorn

The Old Ones. Terrible abominations of the night and easily the worst kind of evil. They were the ones that threw this land into the disarray it's in now, and even after all this time he still wishes to fight them, to destroy them for every life that they've taken from this world, from his land.

“Hunter- ah, Sol,” he starts, words stumbling out of his mouth with less and less confidence.

“What is it?”

“How will this night end? Is there an end?” The two of them have found themselves in some dingy alleyway behind the cathedral, Sol with his back to the wall, Sin cradled in his arms. It's the only way Sol feels comfortable to let the boy sleep. Of course, it could also be an effect of how touch starved the two of them are, but they would never openly admit it.

“The night ends when I- when we put a stop to the Elder Things. The Old Ones who have come to make toys of humanity. When the Good Blood dies, so will this night.” He's careful with each word, his hands soothing through Sin’s hair as he talks. The boy cowers closer into his chest. He's afraid of them, of the monsters of the Hunters Night.

Sol just wanted his illness cured, that's all he wanted, and instead he was gifted a curse and a sword. And now… He had brought this child into the fray.

He only meant to escort him home, but now he needed Sin, the one last Good Thing on this forsaken hellscape. He held Sin closer, the boys figure getting lost within the layers of cloaks and limbs.

“Sol? I'm okay, just tired is all. You should get some sleep too…” There was no way he would realize, his eyes still had a shine to them, like starlight. It hurt to look at the boy so covered in bandages and blood. He deserved the world, and Sol could give him nothing more than an illusion of security.

“I need to watch over you Sin, let me do that for you.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but that's all he needs. Sin nods, humming a little into the Hunter’s chest.

After a while he nods off to sleep, face serene, so very innocent. He wasn't made for this world, and Sol knows it, hell, they both know it. Sin knows he can't leave the Hunter alone, though. He knows that loneliness will eat the man alive, no matter how much he protests otherwise. He needs a person to fight for, to live for.

Sol watches the boy sleep, chest rising and falling like the crest of the tides. Ignoring the blood cake'd to both of their bodies, the moment is similar to a lovers embrace, and he can't help but feel his heart hurt from the thought. Perhaps if they weren't in this exact scenario, they could have-

He destroys the thought then and there as the sound of footsteps echo from the distance. It's faint, incredibly faint, but it's still there. He can't tell if it's simply from a distance, or if the steps are from a nearby advisory trying to hide their steps. Without thinking, he holds Sin tighter. If there's nothing he can do, he can at least try to keep him safe.

He hears voices in passing, garbled and high pitched, likely nuns or sick nurses of a sort. Eventually, they fade into the distance again and the steps disappear along with them. Just the cathedral-goers, Sol tells himself.

It's shit like this that makes him think that maybe not sleeping isn't the best idea, but no amount of false security can make him want to relax.

He would sleep in the Hunter’s Dream, nothing there but a doll and Asuka, the Blood Maker, and considering neither of them had pounced him even while unconscious, it was safe to assume they meant no harm. Even then, if he went there that meant leaving Sin to fend for himself, and that wasn’t an option he would ever take. Even the short trips he did take left him feeling incredibly nervous. Of course the simple answer to that would be to allow Sin into the dream with him, but he doesn't want to go down that road if he doesn't have to. He wants to keep the boy safe, out of danger.

Despite his own vigilance the Hunter still nods off every now and then, snapping back to consciousness at the smallest of sounds; leaves rustling, the nuns of the cathedral walking past, anything. It isn’t safe and he knows it but he's so damn exhausted, even if he won't admit it.

Eventually Sin wakes up, it's been so long yet the moon hangs in the same exact spot. He sits up lazily, yawning and mewling a bit as he stretches his achy bones.

“You ready?” Sol doesn't wait for an answer, just holds his hand down to help the kid to his feet.

“Yeah, let's go.”

Sol holds his hand for just a moment longer than he should’ve and it only stirs up thoughts from earlier. If only they weren't in this situation then they could have…

“Sol?” Sin asks when Sol doesn't let go, concern clear as day on his face. He snatches his hand away like it's been burnt, as if Sin truly is the scorching sun itself.

“It's nothing.”

He wants nothing more than to feel the sun burn him whole.


End file.
